Always a Pilot
by jublke
Summary: Han's plans to join the Rebel Alliance hit an unexpected snag.
1. Chapter 1

This piece is set during RoTJ, not long after Han's rescue from Jabba's palace. Although I am trying to follow the movie's basic timeline, some scenes don't quite match up. So, be forewarned that this is AU.

This story is a work of fan-fiction. _Star Wars_ and its related characters were conceived by George Lucas and are now owned by Disney. I don't own any of this.

My thanks to my husband & sons for beta-reading this one for me. However, we are all new to the rather extensive online _Star Wars_ universe so if you see something that's wrong in canon or could be better explained using the EU, please drop me a line.

My thanks to Jedi1952 for providing me with some tips to better keep the story in line with the _Star Wars _universe.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

"There's been no change."

As the older man let his words sink in, he pretended to ponder his empty caf mug. After a protracted silence, he looked up. The dark-haired man seated opposite still looked shell-shocked. The lanky pilot recrossed his arms and nervously tapped one foot, as if sending for reinforcements using some sort of code. The older man quickly scanned the nearest corridor for any sign of Wookiee activity before adding, "You know I have to report this, Captain Solo. I'm sorry."

Han managed a curt nod before standing. Turning on his heel, he left the room and stormed down the hall. His long, deliberate strides left a wake of confused Rebels in his path.

* * *

"Leia, we need to talk."

Leia Organa, the fierce and feisty princess of the Rebel Alliance, scarcely looked up from her datapad. "Can't it wait?" She spoke around a writing stylus. "I've got a meeting with Mon Mothma in an hour."

"No."

The tone of Luke's voice and his uncharacteristic lack of elaboration caused her to look up. She withdrew the stylus from her mouth, tucked it behind her ear, and set aside her datapad to frown at him. "What's wrong?"

"Have you seen Han today?" Luke shifted his body weight from one foot to the other as he studied her.

Princess Leia tried to stifle a blush as she remembered the glorious evening two nights ago aboard the _Millennium Falcon_. After six months of separation, she had wanted nothing more than to spend every waking moment with Han. Since arriving back on the _Headquarters Frigate_, however, she'd been swept up in meetings and timetables. They had managed to meet for dinner once in the canteen. But not until their tryst aboard the _Falcon_ had they been able to reignite each other's passion, and even that marvelous interlude had been cut short by an emergency briefing.

She tried to clear her head before replying. "Not since the day before last. Why?"

"He was supposed to attend a pilot's planning meeting today." Luke chewed his lip.

Leia frowned. "I'm not following."

"Han took his name off the pilot's roster, Leia. Lando's taking his place as squadron leader."

"What?" As she leapt up, Leia felt her heart drop to her boots. We talked about this, she thought. Han promised me that he would formally join the Rebel Alliance. He knows how important this is to me. Was it all just pillow talk? With Jabba dead, there's nothing left for him to run from. Except me, she realized with a start.

Eyes narrowing, she glared at Luke. "Is the _Millennium Falcon_ still onboard?"

Luke nodded. "We need to talk to him."

"Oh, yes, we do," Leia fumed. She followed Luke out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't care what you think, Chewie. We've been over this. It's time to move on."

The big Wookiee growled at Han and shook his head. *You underestimate them. And yourself.*

Han glared at his friend as Chewie hoisted another case of rations aboard the _Millennium Falcon_. "I thought you'd be happy about this. We're heading to Kashyyyk to visit your relatives, not mine, pal." Han carried the crate through the lounge and secured it in the galley kitchen.

Chewie's mournful howl reached him even in the depths of the ship. *It is the wrong time for this trip. You're not leaving for me, Han. You are running away and using me as an excuse.* Chewie punctuated this statement with a growl as he headed for the cockpit.

Han entered the small command center just after Chewie. Ignoring his partner, he picked up a flimsy and scowled at it, marking a few items on the list. "I think we're about loaded up. Did you get clearance for us to leave?"

*Yes. Let me go on record as saying that I oppose this decision.*

"Noted," Han said, cocking an eyebrow. He made a show of adding Chewie's comment and checking it off of the list with a flourish. "Now, can we go?" There was a hint of desperation in his sarcastic tone.

As Chewie began their preflight checks, Han noticed two figures moving purposely across the main docking bay toward his ship. Luke, in his black Jedi uniform, was easy to spot. Which meant that the person trailing after him had to be Leia. Han sighed.

Chewie threw a toggle switch and looked up from the controls at Han, who was now pacing nervously between the small cockpit and the lounge. The Wookiee thrust a shoulder in Luke and Leia's direction. *They have come for you, cub, as I said they would.* Chewie stopped working and rested his large paws in his lap.

Han swore in Corellian, Basic, and, for good measure, Huttese, before lowering the entry ramp. Arms knotted at his waist, he glared at the two humans approaching his ship. They were close enough now that he could see Leia's return glare, harsh enough to strip paint. But Luke merely looked worried, and the expression on his face made Han's stomach clench.

As they ascended the ramp, Leia continued to scowl at him. From her restrained behavior, Han was certain that she was literally biting her tongue. Luke must have convinced her to let him speak first.

"Han, I'm so glad we caught you." Once aboard the ship, Luke spoke with no hint of anger, only compassion. "Where are you headed?" The genuine concern in his voice made Han feel ashamed.

He turned away and gestured for them to follow as he replied. "Kashyyyk. Chewie and me are gonna spend some time with his family. Right, Chewie?" Han called to the Wookiee on their way to the lounge.

As they seated themselves around the Dejarik table, the Wookiee growled back. *Don't drag me into this, Han.*

Luke inclined his head toward the cockpit and looked directly at Han. "It doesn't sound like Chewie wants to go."

Han glared at Luke. "We're going, and that's final." In a softer voice, he muttered, "It's personal."

Leia could no longer hold her tongue. "Personal? Personal?! You mean like how you lied to me about joining the Rebellion? Or did you say that just to get me into bed?" Her brown eyes bored into Han's skull. "What could possibly be more personal than that?"

For once, Han said nothing. He swallowed hard and stared at the floor.

At his lack of response, Leia tried another tactic. "You're turning your back on the Rebellion, Han. We need you."

At this, the pilot did look up, fire in his eyes. He stood and thrust a finger at her. "The Rebellion doesn't need me, your high-and-mighty-ness. And I don't need them telling me what to do."

"We had an agreement!"

"We had a discussion. I've made my decision. End of story." Han folded his arms and glared at her.

"What about us?" Leia's voice dropped.

Han's voice didn't. "What about us, your majesty? I'm just a lowly smuggler now. Do you still want to be seen with me?" He made a lewd gesture in her direction.

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh. You disgust me."

"There's your answer, sweetheart. Whatever we had between us is over now. I'm moving on."

Leia's eyes widened, and she looked as through she had been slapped. After a long pause, she replied, her voice edged in ice. "If that's how you feel, Captain Solo, then we have nothing left to say to each other." She stood. "Goodbye, Chewie," she called toward the cockpit. "Please keep in touch."

The Wookiee howled as Leia stormed off the ship.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the encouragement, Pitdroid! it's always nice to know someone is reading along. :)

* * *

Han stared after Leia and sighed. Shaking his head, he turned his weary eyes toward Luke. "I guess you need to get going too, huh, kid?" he said, hopefully.

Luke shook his head. "I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're going." He spoke in the calm voice of a seasoned Jedi and slowly crossed his arms for effect.

Han stood and gestured wildly. "I'm leaving because I'm a selfish bastard. Don't kid yourself. This war is a pointless, idealistic crusade. I don't have time for this nonsense. I need to get back to business." He rubbed his hands together. "Making money." But as he spoke, Luke saw the harsh clench of his jaw and a nervous twitch of his facial muscles.

"You're lying." Luke's calm response was touched with a hint of personal satisfaction at having seen through Han's facade. "I can sense your confusion, Han. I don't know why, but I can tell that you're scared."

"Those old Jedi mind tricks don't work on me, kid," Han said. He sat back down next to Luke with deliberate slowness and stretched out, propping up one leg on the cushion of the lounge seat for effect.

Luke had a sudden image of Han jolted awake from the same location dripping with sweat. "You've been having nightmares."

Han dropped his boots to the floor and wrapped his arms across his chest. "Not funny, Luke." After a moment of silence, he stood and gestured to the entry ramp. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, but our departure window closes soon." In a more serious voice, he added, "It's been great knowing you, kid." He held out his hand for Luke to shake.

As Luke returned the handshake, he forced the older man to look him deeply in the eyes. The Force vision that resulted was so intense that Luke briefly blacked out and fell backward. Han caught him, startled, a worried look in his eyes. "You okay, kid?"

Luke blinked, rubbed his eyes, and nodded. "Yeah." He shook his head slowly. "I've never experienced anything like that before," he said, wringing his hands as he dropped back down on the lounge cushion. "I feel so cold."

Han brought him a blanket from his quarters and a glass of bactade from the galley, worry wrinkling his brows. "Here, drink this." He sat down next to Luke and draped the blanket over his shoulders. "Maybe you should sit still for a minute."

Luke did as instructed. Then he removed the blanket, set the now empty glass on the Dejarik table and reached out, touching his friend on the arm. "Look, Han, I don't know what's going on with you, but I can tell that something's wrong." He shook his head. "Very wrong."

Han turned away. "Nothing I can't handle, kid."

Luke jumped up and placed his hands on Han's shoulders, startling the pilot. "But that's just the point. You don't have to go through this alone. You've got friends here. Let us help you."

Chewie's growl of agreement thundered through the ship.

Han shuddered under Luke's touch. "I don't know if I can," he whispered.

Luke sat back down close to Han and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. It was only then that he realized the older man was shaking. "Just talk to me. Okay?"

After a long moment, Han nodded. He surreptitiously swiped a hand across his eyes before standing and walking to the cockpit.

"Trip's off, Chewie," he said in a quiet voice.

The Wookiee stood and grasped Han in a vigorous hug. For once, Han didn't fight his furry friend's enthusiasm. As he let himself relax into the arms of the big beast, he whispered, "Thanks, pal. You were right."

Luke poked his head in and smiled at Han. "You want to go somewhere and talk?"

Han shook his head. "The lounge is fine. Chewie, you mind giving us a minute?"

Chewie howled a reply, but this time, Luke sensed no hostility or frustration from the big Wookiee.

"Thanks, Chewie," Han replied. Turning to Luke, he added, "Chewie's gonna grab dinner for us from the canteen. I hear Goldenrod has learned to grill a mean nerf steak."

"Sounds good," the younger man replied.

Han cocked his head. "I don't know, Luke. We've got a lot to talk about."


	4. Chapter 4

Leia spent the majority of the strategy meeting thinking of Han. What had gone wrong? Had she done something to drive him away? She and the fierce Corellian never seemed to be able to sustain their intimacy without tearing out each other's throats the next day. Could they ever have a real relationship? Leia had been so hopeful this time. She knew that he loved her. Why couldn't he just admit it? She shook her head absently. Maybe his leaving was for the best.

Hearing a scape of chair legs against the tile floor, Leia looked up and realized that the large crowd had started to thin in the war room. She felt relief that the meeting was over. Now she could go to back to her quarters and, hopefully, sink into a dreamless slumber. She had only the vaguest idea of what they had been talking about, something to do with potential weaknesses in the power grid of the latest Death Star.

She was gathering her datapad and a sheaf of flimsiplast when Mon Mothma appeared, hovering before her chair. Leia instantly sat straighter, her hand to her braids, tucking away any loose strands of hair. The mere presence of the woman made her feel inferior.

But when the older woman spoke, her words were kind. "I'm sorry to hear about Captain Solo. It's a shame he won't be joining our pilot squadron." Leia swallowed hard and nodded as Mothma continued. "Please let him know that he's welcome to reapply once he obtains the proper medical clearance."

What? Leia's thoughts began to swim violently and she had to grip the chair as the room began to spin. Han is ill? Too sick to fly? She swallowed down the bile and tried to conceal her feelings with a nod. The older woman didn't seem to notice her discomfort. As she bid Leia goodnight, the Princess only heard her earlier conversation with Han echoing through her mind. Given this turn of events, the words took on an entirely new meaning.

_"What about us, your majesty? I'm just a lowly smuggler now. Do you still want to be seen with me?"_

_"Ugh. You disgust me."_

_"There's your answer, sweetheart. Whatever we had between us is over now. I'm moving on."_

Leia blinked back tears as she hurried from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Luke and Han were sprawled across the lounge sofa of the _Millennium Falcon_. Han had kicked off his boots and tossed his vest; Luke sat cross-legged sans tunic or boots. Empty food containers and bottles littered both the table and floor.

"Now, what's going on?" Luke asked, as he tucked into his nerf steak. Chewie had brought the two men a banquet's worth of food from the canteen before retiring to his room for the night.

Han speared a vacuum flower before answering. Not looking at Luke, he replied, "I failed the medical exam to become a Rebel pilot."

Luke frowned. "But you can take it again, right?"

"I did. Failed it the second time, too." Han took a sip of Corellian brandy. His hazel eyes met Luke's blue ones for the first time since they had started dining together. "The Rebels don't want me, kid. Time for me to pack it in and go back to smuggling." Han looked away.

"You don't mean that," Luke implored. "You shouldn't be flying if you're not well, Han. The Alliance could pull your pilot's license." Luke stopped to chew a bite of steak. "I'm surprised they haven't already."

Han paled. "They can't do that!" he exclaimed, slamming the brandy snifter down on the Dejarik table. "Can they?"

"Only if you want to fly in Rebel airspace." Luke took a sip of his Ebla beer. "Besides, you don't want to fly while impaired. You'd never forgive yourself if something happened."

Han sighed and refilled his glass from the decanter of Corellian Reserve. "I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right." Luke grinned.

Han returned with a weak smile of his own, which quickly shifted to a grimace. "So what do I do now?" he said, brooding into his brandy.

Luke shrugged, drained the bottle, and set it down on the already crowded table. "Depends on what's wrong with you." He looked at Han earnestly. "What did the doctor say?"

"He wants me to go back to the _Medical Frigate_ and spend a few nights in a bacta tank." Han shuddered.

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"It's bad, kid." Han stood up and walked into the galley, returning with another beer for Luke. After handing him the bottle, he sat back down. "Reminds me too much of carbonite." Han's hands started to shake. "I can't go anywhere near those damn bacta tanks. If I get too close, I start hyperventilating."

"Maybe they could sedate you."

Han glared at his friend. "I already told them I'm not doing it. They're just fishin' around anyway. They have no idea what's wrong." He frowned and took a long sip of brandy. His hand was so unsteady that some of the brandy spilled down his shirt. With effort, Han set the glass down.

Luke placed his bottle on the table next to Han's glass. His next words were gentle. "So, what is wrong with you, anyway?"

Han shrugged. "I spent six months in carbonite. What isn't wrong with me?" He frowned at the floor.

"They say hibernation sickness only lasts a few days, a week at most."

"They lie."

"So ..." Luke thought a moment. "Blurred vision, chills, muscle spasms ..."

"Night sweats," Han added. "Flashbacks. Insomnia." He rubbed his eyes and groaned.

Luke gave Han a wan smile. "Why didn't you say something when I picked you up from the _Medical Frigate_?" Luke thought back to his time on Dagobah. While Luke had been saying goodbye to Yoda, Han had been recovering at the portable medical facility.

Han shrugged. "I thought it would get better." He shuddered again. Luke, realizing that his friend was cold, grabbed the blanket that Han had given him earlier and draped it over the older man's shoulders. "Thanks," Han said. "Everything's worse at night. I get tired and I start remembering ..." Han trailed off, his teeth chattering.

"Do you want me to turn the heat up?"

Han shook his head. "W-won't help. I've got a heating pad in my room, if you d-d-don't mind."

Luke was on his feet hurrying toward the dwelling chambers before Han had even finished speaking. He returned carrying the heating pad and an unopened box of disposable bacta patches. He waved the box at Han. "What are these for?"

Han took the heating pad and placed it across his lap. After a long silence, he sighed and answered, "I'm supposed to wear them on my eyes at night."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Like an eyepatch?" He gave Han a cocky grin. "You really are a pirate!"

Han rolled his eyes. "Like two eyepatches. I tried it one night when I was aboard the _Medical Frigate_. Damn things fuse to your eyelids for two hours." He shivered. "Longest two hours of my life."

"Still ..." Luke said. "It might not be so bad if you were with friends you trusted." He eyed Han. "Chewie's just a room away and you can't get much safer than having a Jedi watch over you." Han shook his head. "I could read to you," Luke added. "Anything you like."

Shivering under the blanket, Han shook his head again. "It's too much to ask." He curled into a fetal position and placed a hand over his eyes.

"No, it's not," Luke argued. "You'd do it for me. Sithspit, Han! You sat outside my bacta tank for hours on end on Hoth."

Han lowered his arm to stare at Luke. "You knew about that?"

Luke nodded. "And I wouldn't have even been in a bacta tank if it hadn't been for you coming to get me after I'd been attacked by that wampa." His voice took on an earnest quality. "Let me do this for you, Han. Come on, it might help. Is your vision the only thing holding you back from a medical clearance?"

Han rubbed his eyes. "It's the main thing. Tremors and numbness in my hands ain't helpin' either," he added, flexing his fingers. "But the docs think I might get past the shakes if I could get a decent night's sleep."

"Then it's settled. I'm moving in." At his friend's pained expression, Luke clarified. "Temporarily, of course."

Han groaned.


	6. Chapter 6

Princess Leia stared at her comlink in frustration. Neither Luke nor Han were responding to her numerous attempts to communicate. Having verified that the _Millennium Falcon_ was still aboard the _Headquarters Frigate_, Leia had first breathed a sigh of relief. At least Han wasn't pouting through the galaxy licking his wounds. Whatever his problems, if he remained with the Rebel Fleet, she knew she would eventually convince him to seek additional medical treatment.

Leia bit back the wave of guilt that accompanied that thought. Han had indeed followed through on his promise to her. He had attempted to join the Rebellion as a pilot, but he had been rebuffed. Regardless of the validity of the reason, Princess Leia knew how much that had to sting. Han's entire sense of identity and self-worth was tied up in being one of the fastest pilots in the galaxy. No wonder he had been so hostile and defensive toward her.

Her attempts to hack into the ship's main computer to access Han's medical records were largely unsuccessful. She could pin down the dates of his pilot exam physicals - two physicals, she noted, indicating that he had failed twice - but little else. She knew that she could always formally request the information, but she didn't want it on record that she was snooping through his files.

The Princess sat back in her desk chair in her small assigned quarters and rubbed her eyes. It was getting late, and she was beyond tired. Her heart hurt at the way things stood between Han and herself, but every time her thoughts turned toward storming the _Falcon_ to confront the boys, something held her back. If she wasn't such a skeptic, she could almost believe that the Force was gently guiding her too, pushing her away from an intervention tonight.

Yawning, she stood and stretched. Walking just a few steps in the small room, she flopped down on her narrow bed, fully clothed. I hope they're all right, she thought. Too tired to send another comm signal, Leia closed her eyes and - without realizing what she was doing - reached out toward her friends using only her mind.

She found Luke first. Despite the late hour, he was still aboard the _Falcon_. She sensed him sitting on the floor in the lounge, reading a flimsy aloud and laughing. Leia smiled. She felt warm and sleepy as the pleasant image filled her thoughts.

Leia reached for Han next, but she shuddered as she encountered his Force signature. He felt so cold. Easing back on the connection, she tried to look around the room using her mind's eye. Han was lying flat on his back on the lounge sofa, shivering. Luke was tucking a second blanket over his prone form. And what was wrong with Han's eyes? Instead of eyes, he had horrible, blank white patches ...

Leia awoke with a start, heart thudding in her chest. What a nightmare, she thought. Wrapping a quilt around herself, she walked back over to the desk and picked up her comlink. This time, there was a voice message.

_Han agreed to stay. Sorry I missed you earlier; we've been sitting up talking. You'll have to ask him what's up. Stop worrying. Everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?_ There was brief burst of laughter from two men and a Wookiee before the message continued. _Good night, Leia. Go to bed!_

Leia smiled at the comlink, marveling at the connection she felt to this young man who was just like a brother to her. Luke. He always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.


	7. Chapter 7

My thanks to Pitdroid, EsmeAmelia, I love dance, and 2Old4This2 for your encouraging words. :)

* * *

When Han awoke, heart pounding, his first thought was that he was back in his carbonite tomb. But then he realized that he could move his arms. When his fingers touched the now-cold bacta patches over his eyes, Han smiled. He had made it through the night without a nightmare, and, with Luke's help, he had followed his doctor's orders for the first time since his release from the _Medical Frigate_.

Han gently removed the bacta patches and blinked his eyes several times to clear them. The room was tidier than he remembered. Luke must have straightened up then, he surmised, since Chewie was even more tolerant of mess than Han.

Luke had stretched out on the floor beneath him, looking every bit the innocent farm boy that Han remembered meeting just a few short years ago. A lifetime ago, thought Han. The kid stirred slightly and curled into a tighter ball. Han unraveled himself from the cocoon of blankets and extracted the warmest one to place over his sleeping friend. Funny how he himself never felt as chilled in the morning. It was always worse at night.

After using the refresher, Han stumbled toward the smell of caf. Chewie must have made a pot before he had left. Han vaguely remembered that his furry friend was attending a training on the repair and maintenance of shield generators. Pouring himself a mug, Han wrapped his hands around the warmth of the cup and wondered if his circulation would ever get back to normal. Padding quietly through the ship so that he didn't disturb Luke, Han sat down in the pilot's seat. He set down the mug and ran his hands over the controls, a lump forming in his throat. It just wasn't fair. He loved flying more than almost anything in the galaxy. Jabba and his bounty hunters had managed to strip him of his dignity, a fate Han personally found worse than being frozen in carbonite. How could he face the others? There would be uncomfortable stares and pitying looks as soon as he stepped off the ship. Han realized that he couldn't hole up on the _Falcon_ indefinitely. But he had no idea how to approach life without his cocky, pilot persona to fall back on. Who was Han Solo, really, if not a pilot?

Movement in the hangar below drew his eyes to a figure walking toward his ship. Han registered that his vision had been helped by use of the bacta patches at the same time that he recognized Leia. She was dressed in casual attire, her hair down, wearing a white jumpsuit and a gold belt with matching sandals.

Han's heart skipped a beat. She was headed for his ship. He got up, walked around to the entry, and lowered the ramp. When he gave her a sheepish half-smile, Leia ran into his arms.

"Han, I'm so sorry," she whispered, at the same time he admitted, "I was a barve. Can you forgive me, your highness?" She clung to him desperately and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

After a long moment, she drew back and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I don't ever want to let you go," she said. "I don't care if you join the Alliance or not."

He stiffened slightly and pulled away. "Gossip travels fast."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Han." Leia stroked his muscular arms. "Why did you run away from me? Why couldn't you just tell me what had happened?" Her voice grew louder.

Thinking of Luke sleeping in the lounge, Han put a finger to his lips and led her by hand into the cockpit. Once there, he sat back down in the pilot's chair and pulled her into his lap. Burying his face in her hair, he murmured, "You smell nice."

She let him snuggle her for a minute before she resumed her line of questioning. "Why did you push me away?" She pulled out of his embrace just enough to look him in the eyes.

Han dropped his gaze. "I didn't want you to stay with me because you feel sorry for me," he admitted. "I was angry."

"At me?"

He nodded. "For expecting more of me than I can deliver."

"Han, I never expected any such thing!" She stood to face him.

"You want me to join your Rebellion, don't you!" Han stood and moved to the hall so that he could comfortably stand and glare back at her. "Well, the Rebellion doesn't want me, sweetheart," he snarled. "And that little stunt with the pilot's physical probably cost me my license!"

"So, now you're blaming me that you're sick?" she cried, indignant. A loud moan from the lounge startled them both. Han and Leia froze.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"Luke stayed with me last night."

"Is he all right?"

Han fought down feelings of jealousy. "Yeah. He didn't sleep much, though." He shuddered involuntarily. He hoped Leia didn't notice.

Of course, she did. "Are you all right?" When he didn't reply, she added, "Are you ever going to tell me what's going on?"

Han felt his stomach clench. "Why don't you ask your Rebel friends?"

She let that slide. The silence between them stretched thin as they stood facing each other just outside of the cockpit. Han wished that Luke would wake up or Chewie could come back early from training. Anything to spare him the humiliation of admitting to the woman he loved that he was anything less than perfect.

She took his cold hands in hers. "You're trembling."

"I still have hibernation sickness," he admitted, looking at their joined hands.

"You told me you were better." It was a gentle reproach.

"I am," he insisted, meeting her eyes. "Better than I was when you found me."

"But ..." she prodded.

He looked away. "You need perfect vision and steady hands to serve as a Rebel pilot." His voice cracked, but he lifted his gaze to meet her concerned one. At the love in her eyes, he admitted, "I don't have either now. I might never get better." He released her hands and rubbed his own together absently. Crossing his arms, he added, "There haven't been too many cases of post-hibernation syndrome. The doctors don't have much to go on." He hung his head. When he spoke next, his words were nearly inaudible. "I'm sorry, Leia."

She took his face in her hands. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Han. Except for acting like a nerfherder." And then she kissed him.


	8. Chapter 8

Han and Leia stood hand in hand, alone in a sterile, white corridor of the _Medical Frigate_. Han was dressed in a white tunic over white shorts, feet bare. Leia wore similarly plain garments, but she was fully covered down to white slippers. She carried a heavily loaded knapsack over one shoulder and her hair was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

"Well, looks like this is it," Han said, taking a deep breath. They were standing before a door marked Bacta Tank Therapy Room D.

Leia squeezed his hand. "You can do this. I'm going to be right there by your side."

Han drew her to an embrace and nuzzled the side of her face. "Be better if you took a dip in the tank with me," he said seductively.

"You know I would if I could," she replied, wrapping her arms around him and stroking the nape of his neck.

The door to the room opened abruptly and Han and Leia jumped apart. The fushia Mon Calamari didn't seem to notice. She studied her clipboard before turning to Han. "You must be Captain Solo. Looks like you'll be staying with us for a few days." The timbre of her voice reminded Leia of running water. "And you are?" The fish-like creature eyed Leia warily.

"Leia Organa," she replied. When the woman didn't react, she added, "Princess of Alderaan."

The title clearly meant nothing to the woman. She frowned at Leia. "You do realize that Captain Solo requires solitary confinement for the duration of his treatment." She stared defiantly at the princess with her right eye.

Han shot Leia a panicked look.

"Doctor ..." Leia began, using her most diplomatic tone.

"Onashi," the Mon Calamari supplied.

"Doctor Onashi, Captain Solo sustained his injuries as a prisoner of war." Han's eyebrows rose as Leia continued. "Due to the traumatic nature of his confinement, his doctors aboard the _Headquarters Frigate_ feel that it would be best if he were to be accompanied by a guard at all times." Leia caught the woman's eye with her gaze. "It's for your own protection."

Dr. Onashi looked skeptical, but she stopped staring. "I see. Do you have the necessary forms?"

Leia reached into her knapsack and handed the woman several sheets of flimsiplast. "Here are release forms for myself, Luke Skywalker, and Chewbacca the Wookiee, along with a requisition form for a hospital grade cot and chair."

The doctor nodded and handed Chewie's form back to Leia. "Wookiees are not allowed near the bacta tanks unless they are undergoing medical treatment themselves." She shrugged apologetically. "Their fur clogs the filters." She gestured at Han and Leia to follow her into the room.

Once inside, Han stopped abruptly at the sight of the giant bacta tank. The glowing vat of viscous blue goo dominated the room. Upon hearing his sharp intake of breath, Leia turned to him. His face had drained of color and he looked like he might pass out. Leia forgot to keep up appearances for the doctor and grasped his nearest hand. His fingers were trembling and cold to the touch. Leia searched Han's eyes and her heart broke at what she saw there, at how much he had suffered during his confinement in carbonite.

Leia turned to the Mon Calamari. "Could you please give us a few moments alone?"

The doctor sighed audibly, but one glance at Han's rigid form and blank expression and she quickly seemed to soften. Placing a webbed hand on Leia's shoulder, she said, "Take all the time you need. I'll see about getting you that chair and cot." The Mon Calamari left the room.

As soon as the doctor was out of earshot, Han turned to Leia. "I can't do this. Get me out of here." His voice was as panicked as Leia had ever heard from him.

Leia grabbed his other hand and forced him to look her in the eyes. "You can do this, Han. I'll stay by your side all three days if you need me to."

Han pulled her close and clung to her. "Please don't leave me, Leia," he whispered.

She drew back, looked him deeply in the eyes, and nodded. "I won't. I promise. I'll never leave you again."

The two lovers drew together, their lips seeking solace and warmth. After a passionate kiss, Han pulled away and took a deep breath.

"All right," he said. "Let's do this."

* * *

Three days later, Han - dressed now in his normal attire - stood in front of the same door in the same plain white hallway of the _Medical Frigate_. This time, instead of holding hands with Leia, he was rubbing his fist, his face contorted in pain.

Leia shook her head at him. "You stupid nerfherder!" she yelled. "You just got out of bacta treatment! What were you thinking?"

Han's mouth was set in a grim line. "I'm thinking that doctor's lucky I hit this wall instead of her face!"

"Han, be reasonable. She was only telling you the truth."

"The truth?" Han exploded. "Why did I bother to spend three days in a bacta tank if they were just gonna ground me anyway, huh, sweetheart?" His voice was so loud that several interns poked their heads around the corner to gawp and stare. Leia tugged at Han's sleeve and pulled him further down the hall.

"You've got other options available to you now," she soothed. "The Rebel Alliance needs a strong leader like you. That time in the bacta tank did you a lot of good. You needed the treatment, Han. Your vision is back to normal and your other symptoms have improved as well. You can obtain a medical clearance now."

"But not as a pilot," Han groused, flexing his sore hand. "I've got to be six months tremor free? Good luck with that." He held out his trembling hands and frowned at the pale digits. "I can't go six hours."

Leia's face softened. "Just think about it, would you please? For me?"

Han pulled her close and rested his chin on top of her head. "I'll think about it," he murmured.


	9. Chapter 9

First things first - this chapter is not my fault! I had a nice, sentimental scene set out in my head but noooo. Han refused to play along. And the more I wrote, the ornerier he got. You have been warned.

* * *

Deep in meditation, Luke sensed a presence outside of his small quarters aboard the _Headquarters Frigate_. Han? he wondered. The Force signature felt like his friend, and yet, something was off. Luke leapt from his bed and opened the door in two steps.

Han half-fell into his room. "Hey, there, Luke," he slurred.

Luke propelled his friend inside. "Are you drunk?" He knew that Han had a high tolerance for alcohol. He was on a major bender if he was this intoxicated.

"I wish," Han replied, flopping down on Luke's bed. "Got anything to drink around here?" He lifted his head and gave Luke a bleary gaze.

"No, I don't," Luke replied. "And even if I did, you don't need any more." He looked down at his friend reproachfully.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You're a Jedi now. Can't have any real fun, can you?" Han sneered and gave Luke a lazy grin.

The Jedi folded his arms. "You're not having fun, Han. Look at you!" He gestured at Han's stained shirt and dusty pants. "You're a mess!"

Han burped loudly in reply and stretched out on Luke's bed. "Got anything to eat?"

"No," Luke said coldly. He could feel his temper rising, which was very un-Jedi-like. Why was Han acting like this? He should be grateful, Luke fumed. I spent a week on the floor of the _Millennium Falcon_ for him.

Encouraged by Han's progress after a week of bacta eye patch therapy, Leia had talked Han into spending three days fully submerged in a bacta tank. Her last message to Luke had indicated that Han was well on the road to recovery.

He should be happy, Luke thought in frustration. He should be taking care of himself. And he shouldn't be trashing my room. "It's late," Luke snapped. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"I am in bed," Han grinned. "Just not in my bed." He burrowed further under the covers.

"Take your filthy boots off my pillow!" Luke ordered.

Han dropped his feet to the floor and stood unsteadily to face Luke. He waggled a finger in his friend's face. "Well, excu-u-use me! No need to get hostile, O High and Mighty Master of the Force!" Under his breath, he muttered, "Didn't realize I wasn't wanted around here. Guess I'll go collapse on someone else's doorstep." He stumbled toward the door.

Luke sighed. "Han, wait," he said, and Han turned back to look at him. Taking a deep breath, Luke stretched out with the Force, but he could only catch glimpses of Han's unhappiness. The man was actively blocking him, hiding his pain. "You can stay here tonight. You go wandering around this ship in your condition and you might never find your way home."

Han mumbled a reply, took two steps backward, and fell like dead weight on Luke's bed. Within minutes, he was snoring. Luke slid his friend's boots off and covered him with a blanket. Then he sat on the floor and resumed his meditation. With Han in this state, he was going to need all of the serenity he could get.


	10. Chapter 10

When Han awoke the next morning, head pounding, he stared at the wall in surprise. Where am I? A gentle touch on his arm, and he nearly bolted out of bed, heart thudding triple time.

Luke's sunny smile greeted him. Why was the kid always so damn cheerful? "How are you feeling? I brought you some caf and breakfast from the canteen."

Under Luke's watchful gaze, Han fought to get his breathing under control. He reached for the caf without ever quite meeting Luke's eyes. Wrapping both hands around the mug, Han took a cautious sip. Luke placed the plate of food in his lap.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" Luke sat down on the bed.

Han, stomach in revolt, set the untouched plate of food on the desk and glared at Luke. "What're you talking about?" He untangled himself from the blanket and threw it aside.

Luke stood up, folded his arms, and shook his head. "You don't remember a thing about last night, do you?"

Han's eyes flitted about the room. "Of course I do."

"You were so drunk when you got here that you could barely stand up."

Han had a vague memory of that. He had a vague memory about a lot of things. He needed more caf. Taking a sip, he frowned at Luke. "Don't you have somewhere else to go? Meditation 101? Lightsaber practice?" He rubbed his eyes and winced.

Luke smirked at him. "This is my room." He sat down on top of his desk, legs crossed, and assumed the lotus position. "You came here, so you must want to talk."

"Fine, I'll leave," Han said, cup in hand. Rising to stand, the head rush gave him pause. Luke calmly continued watching him with that irritatingly serene look on his face. Finally, Han could take no more. "Look, there's nothing wrong, all right? I just had a bad night."

Luke said nothing. The silence was deafening and Han found himself rushing to fill the void. "It's not like it's over for me or anything. There's plenty of things I can still do. I just need some time to get used to it, to figure out what I'm gonna do, and get my head on straight."

Luke looked like he wanted to ask something, but he didn't. Han took another swig of caf. "Eh, what would you know? You've always known where you were headed. You've never had your whole life ripped out from under you." He set the cup down on Luke's desk.

"What are you talking about?" Luke jumped down from the desk, nearly knocking over the plate of food and the caf, and glared at Han. "I came home after R2 wandered off and found my aunt and uncle killed, our compound burned to the ground by stormtroopers. There was nothing left."

Han shook his head and rubbed his eyes again. "I didn't know."

"Well, you didn't know because you never asked! You can be so selfish sometimes."

"Me, selfish?" Han sounded affronted.

"Yeah, you. Leia and I spent the past two weeks putting our lives on hold to try and help you get better and you never once said thanks!" Luke was pacing now, which was hard to do because his quarters were so tiny. "And then you came in here last night, drunk as a jet juicer, and crashed out on my bed. I had to spend the night on the floor." He gave Han an indignant look. "Again!"

"Listen, kid, I ..."

"What? You didn't mean it? You won't do it again? I don't want to hear it. Just go."

Han threw up his hands. "Whatever I did last night, kid, I wasn't acting half as crazy as you're acting now." He smoothed down his wrinkled clothes and tried to push past Luke to leave. He was almost out the door when Luke spoke.

"The Rebel Alliance is going to launch an attack soon. But I'm not sure we're ready. I feel a disturbance in the Force."

Han fought the urge to roll his eyes. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"Exactly. You're so caught up in your own self-pity that you can't see that we need you." Luke's eyes were hard.

Han met his glare. "Trust me, kid, you don't need me. The Rebel Alliance officially revoked my pilot's license yesterday."

Luke's eyes dropped first. "Leia told me they granted you a medical clearance."

Han's voice was cold. "They did. A restricted one. No piloting spacecraft."

Luke raised his eyes to meet Han's angry ones. "There's more to life than being a pilot, Han. There are other things you can do to help the war effort."

"I don't have to listen to this."

Luke grabbed his sleeve. "No, but I think you should." Han yanked his arm away. Ice blue met cold hazel steel as the men stared each other down.

Han spoke first. "Look, kid. I've been a pilot my entire life. Even before I could walk, I knew I wanted to fly. You know what it's like. It gets in your blood." Han flexed his hands and looked down at his trembling fingers. "I don't have anything left to give." He said the words quietly.

"That is the biggest load of bantha dung I've ever heard!" Luke exclaimed. "So, since the Rebels won't let you fly, you're not going to do anything?"

"I'm not you, Luke!" Han yelled back. "I don't have any other skills. I don't know how to be anything else!" Having expended his anger, he leaned against the doorframe for support.

The kid looked surprised. "You really believe that, don't you? That if you aren't a pilot, you're nothing."

Han didn't answer. He crossed his arms and stared at the floor.

"Han, how can you think like that? You're one of the most gifted people I know." As Han looked up with skepticism, Luke continued. "You know more languages than any human around. How many people speak Shyriiwook?"

Han shrugged. "It's not that hard. And I don't speak it, I understand it. Big difference."

"And you know Basic and Binary ..."

"And Rodese and Huttese," Han snapped. "What's your point, Luke? Goldenrod is fluent in over six million forms of communication, as he's so fond of telling us. Not like I'm itching to take over his job."

"My point is, I think you'd make a good ambassador."

Han snorted. "What planet you livin' on, kid? I've spent most of my life on the lam or getting shot at. Diplomacy ain't my thing."

"You're good at repairing things," Luke tried. "You could work in the mechanics pool."

"And watch the other guys take my ships out and fly them? You're out of your mind."

"Well ..." Luke thought aloud. "You've got good instincts in battle. Maybe you could lead the ground troops."

"Listen to yourself, kid. A minute ago, you were telling me how selfish I am. Now, you want to place a whole squadron under me. Nice. Tell it to Lando. I hear he's got delusions of grandeur." With that, Han stalked out.


	11. Chapter 11

This chapter is for Pitdroid. :)

* * *

After leaving Luke's quarters, Han immediately contacted Chewie. He needed something to get his mind off of the conversation with Luke, which had somehow veered deeply into his personal life. Silencing the comlink, he headed straight for the main docking bay.

He was just starting to think the morning might improve when he was accosted by Princess Leia. "Hey," she said, as she rushed up to greet him. "I've been trying to reach you. Admiral Ackbar wants to meet with you in an hour."

Ignoring her, Han continued walking across the hangar toward the _Millennium Falcon_. "Tell him I'm busy." He activated the entry ramp for the ship and started to board. Leia followed close at his heels.

"Doing what?" Her voice was skeptical.

Han turned to glare at her. "Inventory."

"But this is important!" she insisted.

"And keeping my ship stocked isn't?" He turned his back to her and stormed toward Chewie, who was sitting in the lounge, sorting through a large box. Tools and oily rags covered the Dejarik table.

The Wookiee looked up in surprise. *We can do this later, Han.*

"We're doing it now," Han snapped. He sat down next to his friend and began to examine a laser caliper.

Leia dropped her arms to her sides. "What do you want me to tell Admiral Ackbar?" In a softer voice, she added, "I think he wanted to offer you a job."

Han looked up, surprised, then looked away. "Not interested." Placing the tool back on the table, he reached into the toolbox and pulled out a hydrospanner. Ignoring Leia, he began to polish the tool with one of the rags.

Leia folded her arms. "And why not?" Her words were clipped.

Han replied with forced calmness, pointing the hydrospanner in her direction. "I don't need his pity any more than I need yours."

Princess Leia gave an impatient snort. "Admiral Ackbar doesn't give pity assignments, Han. This is war. We'd all wind up dead." She waited for a response, tapping her foot against the floor, but Han ignored her. Finally, Leia finally threw her hands in the air. "I give up. You win, Han. You can sit in your ship all day counting tools if that's what you want. But if you change your mind, the meeting is in one hour." With that, she stalked out.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Chewie looked reproachfully at Han. *You should go to the meeting.*

"What? You, too?" Han jumped up in anger. "I don't need this!" He threw the hydrospanner across the ship where it thwacked heavily against some paneling and dropped to the floor with a clatter.

Chewie growled ferociously. *Enough! Stop with these childish antics!* He gave Han a stern look. *Luke and Leia are right. You are wallowing in self-pity.*

The man glowered at Chewbacca but said nothing. He walked across the lounge in silence, picked up the fallen tool, and returned to sit at the table.

After a stern glance at his companion, the Wookiee continued. *Working full-time for the Alliance makes sense for now, Han. We can help the Rebel war effort and they can help us. Here you can take a job that does not require you to pilot. We do not know if further recovery from your condition is possible. It would be good for you to have access to proper medical care. And we have friends here.* Chewie looked pointedly at Han. *Good friends.*

At Han's continued silence, the Wookiee put a large, furry paw on the man's shoulder. *I worry about you, cub. I swore a life-debt to protect you, but I can not save you from this. You are not acting like yourself.*

Han cursed and shook his head. "I don't feel like myself." Rubbing one eye, he groaned. "I wish things could go back to the way they were before Cloud City." He closed his eyes and lowered his head onto the table.

*Whether they do or not is entirely up to you.* Chewie stroked Han's hair affectionately and walked away.


	12. Chapter 12

As much as I hate to do this - I'm having so much fun writing - it's time to bring this story to a close. I think you'll recognize where we re-enter RoTJ. I tried to stay faithful to the movie, but I took a few liberties here and there. One more chapter to go after this one!

* * *

Two days later, Han and Leia entered the circular war room together. Everyone of importance to the Rebel command structure seemed to be in attendance. They ducked into a couple of seats near the front as Mon Mothma arrived.

Lando Calrissian, an attractive dark-skinned man with a swagger, sauntered over to Leia and Han, his full cape swishing behind him. Han grinned at his old friend. "Well, look at you, a general, huh?"

Lando looked a bit sheepish. "Oh, well, someone must have told them about my little maneuver at the battle of Taanab."

Han's sidelong glance was followed by a shrug. "Well, don't look at me, pal. I just said you were a fair pilot. I didn't know they were lookin' for somebody to lead this crazy attack."

Lando gave him a winning smile. "I'm surprised they didn't ask you to do it."

Leia heard Han's sharp intake of breath. Apparently, word hadn't gotten around to everyone yet that Han had been grounded. She reached out to him instinctively and squeezed his hand. When he had regained some composure, Han replied calmly, "Well, who says they didn't? But I ain't crazy. You're the respectable one, remember?"

Fortunately, Han was saved from further questioning as Mon Mothma called the meeting to order. In her regal voice, she announced, "The Emperor has made a critical error and the time for our attack has come." She gestured to a holographic model depicting the latest Death Star and began to describe the weaknesses inherent in the design.

Admiral Ackbar, a salmon-colored Mon Calamari, picked up where she had left off. "You can see here the Death Star orbiting the forest moon of Endor. Although the weapon systems on this Death Star are not yet operational, the Death Star does have a strong defense mechanism. It is protected by an energy shield, which is generated from the nearby forest moon of Endor. The shield must be deactivated if any attack is to be attempted. Once the shield is down, our cruisers will create a perimeter, while the fighters fly into the superstructure and attempt to knock out the main reactor." Ackbar nodded respectfully at Lando. "General Calrissian has volunteered to lead the fighter attack."

Han leaned toward Lando. "Good luck," he said with sincerity. As Lando smiled and nodded, Han added in a snarky tone, "You're gonna need it." Lando rolled his eyes.

Admiral Ackbar turned the floor over to General Madine, a blond human with a full mustache and beard. "We have stolen a small Imperial shuttle. Disguised as a cargo ship, and using a secret Imperial code, a strike team will land on the moon and deactivate the shield generator."

As surprised murmurs filled the air, Leia whispered to Han, "I wonder who they found to pull that off?"

Madine looked at Han. "General Solo, is your strike team assembled?"

Leia gasped as the man seated next to her straightened his slouch and replied in a deferential tone, "Uh, my team's ready. But I don't have a command crew for the shuttle." He swallowed uncomfortably. "I need a pilot."

Chewbacca, looking affronted, immediately raised his hairy paw. Han looked up at him and shrugged. "Well, it's gonna be rough, pal. I didn't want to speak for you." As Chewbacca grunted his assent, Han finally relaxed his posture. "That's one," he said happily.

Leia felt both admiration and protectiveness of Han in equal measures. Having only recently nursed the man back to health, she wasn't about to let him leave her side. "General? Count me in," she announced with conviction.

Luke wasn't far behind. Bursting into the meeting late, he announced, "I'm with you, too!"

Han looked around at his new crew and smiled. Leia, seated closest to him, could feel Han radiating contentment. She knew that while he had tolerated their nurturing attention at home aboard the _Falcon_, this public display of support meant something more. Here, in the war room before an assembly of Rebel Alliance brass, they had validated his leadership abilities. Whether Han ever piloted another vessel, Leia knew that he would always remain a pilot at heart. But for now, he had other options open to him and she could sense the wonder and excitement welling within him. This mission was going to be one wild ride.

THE END


	13. Epilogue

I couldn't resist writing one final chapter ...

* * *

Two Rebel generals faced each other on the floor of the main docking bay of the _Headquarters Frigate_, right in front of the _Millennium Falcon_. The one wearing a gaudy cape placed his hand on the other's shoulder, shaking his head. "I had no idea, old buddy."

Han shrugged off his touch. "It's only temporary." Even admitting that much was painful to Han. In reality, he had no idea if the lingering symptoms of post-hibernation syndrome would ever abate. But that wasn't something he wanted to discuss with Lando, the man who had turned him over to bounty hunters in the first place. If he thought too hard about what Lando had done, he couldn't work with the man. So Han gave a curt nod and turned to board the Imperial cruiser.

But Lando just stood there, staring a hole in the floor of the big hangar. "It's from the carbonite sickness, isn't it?" He raised his eyes slowly and Han, reluctantly, turned and nodded. "Damn!" The flamboyant man began to pace, waving his hands in frustration. "I'm so sorry, Han. I regret that decision every day. I'd have never turned you over to Vader if I'd known. Never." Lando stopped pacing, crossed his arms, and stared at the floor again. "Damn." The eyes he turned to Han were shadowed with regret. "We could have really used you out there today, too."

Something in Lando's posture - the slight slump of his shoulders or the awkward angle of his head - told Han that Lando wasn't bluffing. He knew the gambler too well. The tremors in Lando's hands weren't from carbonite sickness, either. The man was genuinely upset. It was as if he had finally realized the full extent of what he'd put Han - and his Rebel friends - through.

And this, Han realized, was terrible. Lando's sudden attack of conscience couldn't have come at a worse time. He can't lead a squadron to battle a Death Star while full of doubt and self-loathing, Han thought. His mission will fail.

Impulsively, Han drew deep and extended a hand. "Stop beating yourself up over it, Lando. What's done is done." He took a breath to steady his voice. After a long pause, he added, "I forgive you."

The effect on Lando Calrissian was immediate. He turned a wide smile on Han. "You mean it?"

"Yeah." Han smiled back, surprised to realize that he really did mean it. "And just to prove it, I'm gonna let you borrow my ship." As Lando's eyes widened, Han grew stern and shook a finger at him. "Now, remember, this is just temporary, until I get my pilot's license back."

Lando looked dubious. "Han, are you sure?"

"Look. I want you to take her. I mean it. Take her. You need all the help you can get. She's the fastest ship in the fleet." Han tried his best to lay a sincere expression on Lando.

It seemed to work, because Lando replied, "All right, old buddy. I know what she means to you. I'll take good care of her. She won't get a scratch, all right?"

Han nodded, trying not to think too hard about his baby going into battle without him. "Right. I got your promise now. Not a scratch."

The two men looked at each other appraisingly. Finally, Lando broke the spell. "Look, would you get going, you old pirate?"

Han looked longingly at his ship. But if I can't fly her, there's no reason she should miss the fun, he thought. Raising his hand, he intended to give Lando a mock salute, but by the time that Lando had followed his lead, the salute they exchanged was genuine.

"Good luck," Lando said.

"You too," Han offered, but he was still thinking, take care of my girl. Not certain if he could bear to watch Lando walk up the entry ramp of the _Falcon_, Han left the docking bay first.

Upon entering the Imperial cruiser, Han looked at Luke sitting in the co-pilot's seat and bit down hard on the urge to tell the kid to move. "You got her warmed?" He took a seat behind his pilots, arms crossed, and carefully studied his friends as they prepared to take the ship to Endor's moon.

"Yeah, she's comin' up," Luke said, flipping a switch. Chewie growled in frustration from the pilot's chair.

Han rolled his eyes. "No, I don't think the Empire had Wookiees in mind when they designed her, Chewie." Movement in the hangar below caught his eye and he leaned forward to get a better view. The _Millennium Falcon_ was also undergoing preflight.

Han didn't realize that Leia had entered from the hold until she poked him. "Hey, are you awake?" Her gaze followed past his to the neighboring ship.

"Yeah. I've just got a funny feeling," Han admitted. "Like I'm not gonna see her again."

For a moment, movement ceased in the cockpit of the Imperial cruiser. Then Leia put a gentle hand on Han's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Softly, she said, "Come on, General, let's move."

Han snapped to attention. "Right. Chewie, let's see what this piece of junk can do. Ready, everybody?"

Luke glanced over at him and smiled. "All set."

Han returned the smile. "All right," he said to his pilots. "Let's do it."

END

* * *

My thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited this story. It's been nice to have the encouragement. And a tip of the hat goes to the _Star Wars_ fanfic writers who came before me and the fine folks at Wookieepedia for helping me to fill in the gaps. Thanks for reading!


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